


Plain Joe

by emeraldlilie



Series: Plain Joe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shop, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldlilie/pseuds/emeraldlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The place smelled of coffee and warm bodies and if Sam didn’t need a serious caffeine fix he would of walked right back out. </p><p>Sam needs a place to study and some coffee and the barista needs to mind his own business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plain Joe

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Sabriel fluff piece. Sam's in his senior year of high school, Gabe's in college. I do not work in a coffee shop or even drink a great deal of coffee so if something is off that's why, there's just too many coffee shop Sabriel fanarts to not write something. Enjoy.

-Plain Joe-

The place smelled of coffee and warm bodies and if Sam didn’t need a serious caffeine fix he would of walked right back out. He could tell right away that the AC was off which made no sense as it was sweltering outside, but studying until the library closed and they kicked him out had finally kicked his ass and this was the closet place to the library, and still open. He went to the counter to order not even looking at the menu.

“Large black.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Large black, no sugar, no milk, no foam. Just plain black coffee.”

“Aren’t you a little young for such an order? Maybe a nice cup of green tea to calm you down?”

“I don’t need calming down. I need to stay awake.” Sam was in shock, he’d never had to argue with a barista about a cup of coffee before, his brother yes, barista no. He was never coming here again.

“Okay, okay one Plain Joe coming up. Name?”

“Sam.”

“Three fifty please.” Sam paid with a five and purely out of habit put his change in the tip jar. He caught the smirk of the barista before he disappeared around the counter. The urge to fight nagged at the back of his mind, but he was tired and still had a few more chapters of European history to review before he’d force himself to call it a night. The machine clicked and whirled into life behind him as he took in the coffee shop realizing he (minus the barista) was the only one there.

He plopped down at the table in the corner, the only one directly under a light, and pulled out his history book opening it to the marked chapter. He was at the rise of Napoleon when the strong scent of java brought him back to the present, his coffee was sitting on the table and he’d no idea how it got there. Steam was escaping through the hole in the lid and Sam lifted it to his mouth and sipped lightly, the bitterness coated his tongue and he sighed in bliss. He took a deeper drink and noticed the barista watching him, making a face. Sam shrugged it off, some people couldn’t take their coffee straight, his own brother for one. That was an argument they’d had many times before, no doubt they’d have it again. He returned to the rise and fall of Napoleon, forgetting about the baristas’ scrunched up nose and pink tongue, losing himself in the text, absorbing every word, and absently drinking his coffee.

Napoleon was dead and buried before Sam put the book down and drained the last of the dregs from his cup. He marveled once again how dead to the world he became when he read, chairs were turned upside down on tables, a mop had clearly made it’s way by him, the pastry case was all but empty, and that one barista was counting the till.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late.” Sam hastily put his books back in his bag and grabbed his cup to throw it away.

“Not a problem kiddo, you were clearly out of it, or into it, or something like that.” The sandy haired man grinned at Sam and went back to counting. Sam checked his watch, half past midnight.

“Shit! My brother’s going to kill me!” Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and moved to the door.

“Nah, Dean’ll be fine, he knows how you get.” Sam stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

“Your brother, Dean, he’ll be fine. Knows where you are and he should be here to pick you up in a few minutes, so just chill.”

“You know my brother?”

“Never met him before in my life.”

“Then…”

“Oh, he called you.”

“Here?”

“On your phone.”

“What?” Sam reached into the front pocket of his bag to check his phone, and sure enough there was a call from Dean, three calls actually, two missed, one lasting for nearly eight minutes. He looked back at the man across the counter.

“Weird place to keep your phone by the way, most people choose a pocket of clothing. Want a refill while you wait? Last pot of the night, no charge.” He gestured vaguely to a nearly empty pot sitting on a warmer. Sam stared at him, mouth agape, though it really didn’t do any good as the man was still counting and not paying him any attention. Too many complaints rushed through his mind to immediately respond, he finally settled on one.

“You answered my phone?”

“Yeah, it was ringing, god awful ring tone by the way. You were out of it, so I answered, not a biggie.” Was this guy serious? “Besides, from the way your brother talked, I got the feeling it’s not the first time a stranger has answered your phone.” He finally put the money down, making a note on a piece of paper and looked up at Sam, laughter in his eyes.

Sam turned red, he was angry. Who was this guy to take such liberty and then laugh about it? Even though he was right, Sam had been interrupted from more than one book by someone handing him his phone with Dean on the other end. But he was mad at himself for letting it happen again.

“I think I’ll just wait outside.” He threw his cup in the trash bin and pushed on the door, it didn’t budge, he pushed again and the door didn’t give. The barista chuckled behind him.

“I lock it when counting the till.”

“Can you unlock it, please?” Sam asked through gritted teeth.

“Just as soon as I put the money in the safe. But really there’s no need to wait outside, have a cookie, no charge.” He smiled brightly at Sam, which did nothing but further aggravate him. Sam turned back to the door and stared outside, hoping to see a glimpse of the impala in the distance fully aware the street his brother would take wasn’t visible at this angle. He mentally cursed himself for getting so caught up in reading that he didn’t notice the world around him, again. He was sure if a fire bloomed to life around him he wouldn’t notice.

“Why is your air conditioner off?” Sam asked randomly, seeing nothing else to do besides wait, and unable to stop himself. He longed for something cool to put on his neck.

“Not off, broken. Sure you don’t want a refill? I’m getting ready to dump it.”

“I’m sure.” Sam heard the coffee being poured down the drain, followed by what sounded like a pressure washer and glass and metal clinking together. Still no impala headlights. He really did just want to go home and sleep in front of his fan at this point. It wasn’t even summer yet, finals were still a week away, why was it this hot!?

“Cookie, brownie, lemon bar?”

“No.” This time Sam heard trays being moved around, small objects hitting a plastic bag, and silently cursed. He’d passed up sweets because of his own annoyance, because why? It’s not like this guy hadn’t done what countless others had. Except he had, instead of interrupting Sam’s reading he’d let him continue until he was done. Had some sort of conversation with Dean, even told him where he was and when to pick him up. How had he known that? Sam jumped and turned, something cold and wet was on his neck.

“Bottled water?” The barista smirked up at him, holding a bottle of cold water out to him, in his other hand was a cherry cola already open and he took a drink of it. Sam glared down at the man but took the water and turned back to the door.

“I have a brother like you, get’s lost in his head all the time, then gets mad about it. He’s adorable.” Sam glanced at the guy standing next to him, not quite sure how to take that last statement.

“Mind not smudging the glass Sam-a-lamb?” Sam lifted his head from the door and backed up. 

“Thanks, Naomi works the morning shift and blows a gasket if everything’s not perfect. Despite the AC being broken.” The guy took the water from Sam’s hand, wiped off the condensation with a napkin, then used that napkin to clean the smudge Sam’s forehead had left on the glass.

“Thanks.” He handed the water back to Sam.

“Sam-a-lamb?” Sam looked at the guy trying to read him. Shorter than him, older than him, sandy hair, eyes to match, and mischievous grin, not bad looking.

“Trying it out, I give all my regulars nicknames.”

“I’m not a regular, this is my first time here.”

“You’ll be back.”

“Not likely.”

“Don’t worry, Naomi will get the air fixed tomorrow, no more heat box in a heat wave. Though you are the one who ordered a large hot coffee in said heat wave.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“You don’t read name tags?” The guy was practically laughing, his honey brown eyes shining. Sam gulped and looked for the name tag to give him some clue as to who he was talking to.

“Sorry kiddo, it’s on the apron, and the apron is off.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam. Sam gulped again, his mouth going dry. He took a swig of water and savored it almost as much as his coffee earlier.

“You do enjoy your beverages don’t you?” Sam shrugged.

“So what’s your name?”

“Mmm, maybe I’ll tell, but I think I’ll just let you find out next time. That your brother?” 

Sam looked out the glass and saw a black impala pulling to a stop by the curb, Dean behind the wheel. A hand was beside his shoulder sticking a key into the lock and turning it. The lights went out behind him and then he was standing on the sidewalk on a warm spring night. His hair was being ruffled and he swore that same hand touched his cheek for just a split second.

“See ya tomorrow kiddo.” And the guy walked off toward the side lot.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Sam raised his hand to wave, even though he wouldn’t see it. He folded himself into the car beside Dean.

“New boyfriend Sammy? Looks too old for you.”

“Shut-up, and no. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

 

~fin~


End file.
